Dusk
by BLBabe
Summary: This is the story of Beckham Swan, an average 17 year old boy who moves to Forks, WA to live with his father after his mother remarries. Follow him on his romantic and drama filled adventure as he deals with shape-shifters and the handsome and mysterious vampire, Edward Cullen, and his family. Things are gonna get rather crazy for this once Phoenix boy. (Edward/MALE!Bella) {SLASH!}
1. Chapter 1

**Pairings:** Edward/MALE!Bella (Beckham Messiah Swan)

 **Disclaimer:** I DONT NOT OWN TWILIGHT OR ITS CHARACTERS (except for maybe Beck, he is an OC, even if he is Bella in a way). If I did own twilight, than it would have been much like this story. If you are reading this, then I'm sure you've seen the M rating when you clicked. This means there will be violence and maybe sex later on in the story. So, don't like, don't read.

 **Authors Note:** This story revolves around the movie AND the book verse, and Beckham (pronounced: _BECK-uhm_ ) will be like Bella in some ways, but he might make different decisions, act or react differently than to how regular Bella would. I will be trying to stay with the original story line and plot (for now at least, unless I want or need to make a change), so no worries there. This is kind of a plot-bunny in my head, and I haven't seen much of a male Bella story, so I thought I would give it a go. This is kind of a stepping stool for me to get more used to the Twilight verse, so do not worry about "Those Red Eyes," I will be continuing it when I can get better bearings on it. DO NOT FRET! Anyway, enjoy the story!

 **Words:** Near 4,000.

THIS IS THE _UPDATED/FIXED_ VERSION!

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1**

 _I'd never given much thought to how I would die, but dying in the place of someone I love, seems like a good way to go._

 _Noble even._

 _That ought to count for something._

 _So, I can't bring myself to regret the decision to leave home._

 _I would miss Phoenix. I'd miss the heat. I would miss my mother and her new husband._

 _But they wanted to go on the road, so I'm going to spend some time with my dad and this will be a good thing..._

 _I think._

 **X X X**

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down completely. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, and the sky was perfect, a cloudless bright blue. I was wearing my favorite loose, dark green tank that was a bit too long and rumbled a bit at my waist. My carry-on item was a black and grey parka that my mom had bought for me recently for this memorable time.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was in this gloomy town that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I had been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past few summers my dad vacationed with me in California instead. My dad is Charlie, he is the chief of police in Forks.

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself to—an action that had me nervous and practically cringing. I didn't much like Forks.

Forks Population: _3,120 people._

"Beck," my mom spoke up—the last of a thousand times—before I would be getting on the plane for my flight to horror-ville. "You know, you don't have to do this."

I felt a faint twinge of panic as I stared at her wide, child-like eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the fridge and on the table every night, gas in the car, and someone to call if she got lost, but still, I was going to really miss her. I just prayed that she would be happy. If Phil ever hurt her, then he would have me to deal with. I'm a forced to be reckoned with when I'm angry, especially if the cause for my animosity has to do with family. I warned Phil the first time I met him, constantly in between, and before we left the house, so I'm pretty sure that he got the message I was giving him.

Let's hope for Phil's sake that he doesn't screw up, or his head might end up on a silver platter.

"I want to go." I lied, rather easily, which scared me a bit. I had always been a horrible liar, but I think I'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded convincing now.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home anytime you want, sweetheart—I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

I could see the sacrifice in her teary eyes behind the promise.

"Don't worry about me mom," I reassured. "It will be great. I love you," I said and brought her into a warm and tender hug. I am a slight mama's boy.

 _Slight_.

She hugged me back tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she was gone.

It is a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles and then an hour drive back down to Forks. The flying didn't really bother me all that much, though I was kind of dreading the hour long car ride.

Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole entire thing. He seemed genially pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time, and of my own free will. I knew that he was more than a little confused about my decision—like my mother. I hadn't made it a secret about my dislike for Forks, but he seemed to let the whole thing slide, seemingly happy enough about my choice.

He probably didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car. I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on the top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

I just really hope that he doesn't pick me up in that thing, but knowing him…

He probably would.

 **X X X**

"Your hair's longer."

Charlie started up a conversation in his _cruiser_ —I had been right—I guess hoping he could break the comfortable silence we had situated ourselves into. Well, at least it was comfortable for me, in some sort of manner of speaking. There was only so much we could really talk about. You'd think not seeing each other for a while would give us a bunch to talk about and catch up on. Though, this was not the case. We both seemed to find this somewhat awkward—especially me—but I guess it was a good thing that he was trying.

I picked at a strand of my long, wavy, almost shoulder length, dark brown hair out of my face—the tips of my hair were about an inch or so from my shoulders—and nodded a bit.

"I've let it grow out since the last time I saw you." I muttered softly and messed with a strand of my soft hair, twirling it around my finger a bit in a somewhat girlish manner. My gaze only flickered to him once before my eyes landed back on the scenery outside.

"Well," he huffed and slouched his shoulders some, seemingly trying to relax, "it looks nice on you," he commented, his attempt at relaxing failing as his grip visibly tightened on the wheel.

I guess he thought it was a complement, which in an aspect, it kind of was. Mom did always like my long hair, even if I was a guy, but she would say it looked cute. Which wasn't at all what I was going for—not that I was going for anything in particular—though even so, I couldn't bring myself to cut it. At least he said it looked nice, instead of my mom's cute. I would take that.

We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet and muggy, and that was pretty much it for conversation. We then just went back to staring out the windows in silence. I had to admit that everything was beautiful, but it was so green that I swore it could be an alien planet.

We soon arrived at my dad's place and I could feel some of the awkward atmosphere from the car ride melt away, if only a little. I slowly slid myself out of the cruiser and looked up at the old house. He still lived in the small, two bedroom place that he'd bought with my mom in the early stage of their marriage. Early stage was really the only stage for them.

We gathered up my stuff from the trunk of the car and took it upstairs, thankfully in only one trip. I didn't really have much stuff to begin with, but I had cut away more than half of my clothes because they were all for Phoenix weather conditions. There was no need for tanks and shorts here.

I was really going to miss Phoenix and its blistering heat.

"I cleared some shelves off in the bathroom for you."

Oh, right. One bathroom. How could I have forgotten? Sharing a bathroom with Charlie was going to be a challenge, but I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.

I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room looked familiar; it had belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue-green walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellow lace curtains around the window—these were a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made was switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew older. The desk now held a second hand computer,probably for school work, and an almost rusted looking desk lamp.

"It's a pretty good work lamp," he said solemnly as he placed my bags down on the floor. He then rested his hands on his hips a bit, surveying the room once before pointing lightly to the bed. "The sales lady picked out the bed stuff," he added and looked at me nervously, his brows furrowed. "You, uh…you like purple, right?"

I nodded a bit and glanced at him. "Purple's cool, I guess." I answered in a hushed tone and fiddled with my hair a bit. I really needed a good and thorough shower. I felt a bit greasy and sluggish, but that may have been from the constant over casted weather. I was really going to have to get used to it. This was going to be my home for a long while. "Thanks."

Charlie nodded and seemed to relax a bit at my appropriate and thankful response. He surveyed the room again, his hands still on his hips. He then let out a huff, letting it become silent for a few moments before he spoke up.

"Okay then," he stated and slowly sauntered out of the room, my gaze following him until he disappeared out of sight.

I visibly relaxed myself and sat down on the bed.

That was one of the best things about Charlie.

He doesn't _hover_.

 **X X X**

It was a little later on that day, after I had taken my shower and unpacked that I heard a car honk and a roaring engine come from out front. I went over to the window and looked out the window to see an old Chevy parked in our drive way. The truck looked pretty cool, though it looked old. I then heard the voices and saw Charlie talking to an older man in a wheel chair, with a tall, handsome, tan boy with long black hair standing beside him.

He looked a bit familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on where I might have met him. If I have met him before, I don't know how I could have forgotten.

The guy was pretty _cute._

In a baby brother-ish type of way.

I made my way downstairs and out the front door, my hands shoved in the front pockets of my ripped and faded blue jeans. I had pulled my hair back in a ponytail to keep it out of my face, but a few stray strands were rebelling and refused to be pinned back in the black band restraint.

The conversation seemed to stop as I walked up and Charlie looked over at me, smiled faintly and pointed lazily to the man in the wheel chair as he casually leaned up against the old truck taking up almost our entire drive way.

"Beck, you remember Billy Black, right?"

I blinked in thought for a moment before it hit me and I nodded, giving a faint smile. "Oh, yeah," I spoke up and shuffled my feet a bit nervously against the pavement. "Wow, you're looking good." I commented sheepishly, earning a bright smile from the man as I lazily shook his hand.

I remembered Billy a bit from when I was little. When I saw him I always felt like I was seeing two people, rather than just one. I never got why, still don't to this day. The guy was nice enough though. If my memory served me right, I believe he lost his wife in a car accident when I was little.

That made my heart sink, I felt a bit sad now.

"Well, I'm still dancing." Billy joked, smiling giddily as he adjusted his body somewhat in the creaky wheelchair after I let go of his hand. "I'm glad you are finally here," he spoke back up after a moment and nodded his head towards my dad. "Charlie here hasn't shut up about you since you told him you were coming," he said rather cheekily, earning an eye roll from Charlie and a smile and chuckle from the boy standing beside him.

"All right, keep exaggerating. Ill roll you into the mud," my father said, voice seemingly tired, but still playful enough. I then saw Billy's grin widen, practically splitting his face in half as he swirled around to face my dad.

"After I ram you in the ankles," he said and began chasing Charlie around at the end of the driveway and a bit into the street. I was a bit concerned about their safety, but there seemed to be no incoming traffic, so I guess it was okay. I watched as my dad put up in fists in a mock fight way, urging Billy on as they zoomed around. It was a rather childlike scene, but great to watch none-the-less.

The boy that had been with Billy sauntered over to me, a broad smile on his face. He was taller than me, which was kind of upsetting. Every guy I met was usually a bit taller than me, even if it was by a millimeter. I am only around 5'8"—maybe 5'8" and a half—but this guy looked to be around 6 feet. Though he was taller, I couldn't really be angry at him with a friendly smile like that. Could I?

"Hi, I'm Jacob."

"Hey."

"We, uh, used to make mud pies when we were little," he offered, trying to see if I remembered.

Now I knew why he didn't seem foreign. I vaguely remember running around and fighting with him a lot when we were kids. He was the one that always wanted to boss me around, but I would never let him, which made him resort to a lot of things. No matter what he did back then though, I somehow couldn't stay mad at him for long.

I even remember his older sisters: Rebecca and Rachel. Every time Jacob would do something wrong I would run to them and they would spoil me and play with me. Though, most of the time I stuck with them they would dress me up in lace and frill. I was fairly feminine kid, still had the long hair and dark, chocolate eyes. I would often get mistaken for a girl and them putting me in dresses, skirts and bows, didn't really help that matter. I didn't mind it though, I actually kind of enjoyed it.

Doesn't make me sound like the straightest guy, does it?

Not that it really matters. My mom knew—my dad to—that I wasn't attracted to girls since I was young. If my enjoyment from wearing dresses back then was anything to go by. Plus, I came out to my mom when I was 14, and she told me she already knew. My dad found out from her and he didn't seem to mind, which was a relief.

I am marginally aware of my gay status, but I'm not one of those types to wave a rainbow flag and parade around singing. My gender preference is really on a _need-to-know_ basis, so you'll know if I want you to, or you find out on your own. I am just thankful my mom and dad accepted me without question, not minding who I might be attracted to or love. While I did find girls to be pretty and sweet—and could admire their soft curves—I just couldn't imagine being with them.

At _all._

It makes me shiver in horror at even the thought of it.

I can't really say what type of guy I like, because I'm not exactly sure of that _myself_.

"Yeah, right. I remember," I responded, a faint smile on my lips.

Jacob laughed softly and I watched him shove his hands into the pockets of his black sweater, seemingly a bit put off and nervous.

It went silent for a bit before I dared a glance over at where Billy and my dad were still goofing around in the empty street. Although, they were dialing it down a bit, seeming to get their childish antics out of their systems.

"Are they always like this?" I asked with a small, almost amused chuckle. I slouched a bit, relaxing my shoulders, trying not to be so tense and up-tight. Hopefully, I didn't put Jacob off with my awkwardness. I tended to do that around new people. Technically though, Jacob wasn't new, but still, the atmosphere was a bit groggy.

As I got more complaisant, Jacob seemed to breathe easier and he nodded, steeling a glance over at his father and Charlie. "It's getting worse with old age," he commented with an amused smirk. I couldn't help but chuckle at that as my dad and Billy made their way back over to us.

"Good," was all I could say in response before Billy and Charlie were in hearing range once more.

I watched as my old man ran his large hand over the rear end of the hulking and massive piece of metal taking up our driveway. He had a slightly smug grin on his lips, which made me feel a bit uneasy. I rarely saw him make that face. The question was, was this a good thing or bad?

"So, what do you think?"

"Of what?"

"Your homecoming present," he said and patted the red trunk, looking rather proud of himself.

My eyes grew wide and I blinked in shock.

 _It was a good thing._

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, my vocal cords seeming to be failing me at this very important moment. I must have looked pretty amusing since I heard Jacob chuckle from his spot standing beside me.

He was giving me a car—no, _truck_?

 _Holy shit._

I didn't think he would actually buy me vehicle. It was a faded red color, with big rounded fenders and a bulbous cap. I absolutely loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged—the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had completely destroyed.

After a moment, I was finally able to speak.

"This?" I asked, unable to help myself from bringing my hands to the truck and running them over the cold and bulky metal. I was star-struck, to put it lightly. This had to be some sort of joke, but I was hoping— _praying_ —that it wasn't.

Charlie nodded, smiling, seemingly pleased with the reaction he got out of me. My dad then motioned his head to Billy a bit and patted the truck lightly with his calloused hand. "Just bought it off of Billy here."

"Yep."

"I totally rebuilt the engine for you." Jacob chimed in after Billy, a smile plastered to his face, much like the one my dad now wore as I scampered my hands across the truck in awe.

I looked at Jacob with a large smile spread across my face. "Oh, come on," I said in disbelief and so badly wanted to hug the truck and my dad, though I resisted the latter for now. "Holy—Dad, this is perfect!" I exclaimed loudly and opened the rusty driver side door, it making a robust sound of protest as I did so. As I slid into the seat behind the wheel, Jacob went around to the passenger seat and climbed in. I burrowed myself into the worn, black leather seat and ran my hands over the slick, ivory wheel, getting a feel for my new baby.

"Told you he would love it." I heard Billy say triumphantly, his grin still expanded across his face, matching mine perfectly. "I'm down with the kids."

"Oh, yeah, dude," I heard my dad say incredulously, as he leaded against the side of my truck, rather arduously. He seemed a bit tired, but I could still see the faint, happy curve to his lips out of the side mirror. "You're the bomb."

Jacob was laughing as I practically bounced restlessly and frivolously up and down behind the wheel, making the car jiggle some with my rare stream of hyper-activeness.

"Okay, listen," he started, once I composed myself to some extent, "you gotta double-pump the clutch when you shift, but besides that, you should be good."

I nodded, sedated, but still smiling like a lunatic as I started up my new baby—I would have to give her a name—and listened to her roar to life. I was a rather grading, demonic and busting sounding and I found myself loving it more than before, even if it was probably very bad for the environment.

Mother Nature would just have to deal with my new _beautiful monstrosity._

Maybe with my new baby, school tomorrow would be less of a Hell-on-earth situation.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and forty-seven—now forty-eight—students; there had been more than seven hundred people back home. All of the kids here had grown up together—their grandparents had been toddlers together.

I am dreading tomorrow, even with my monster truck to comfort me with its roaring.

I would be the new guy from the big city, a curiosity, maybe even a freak.

Even I had to admit that I was rather strange.

Maybe, if I looked like a guy from Phoenix should, I could use it to my advantage. But physically, I'd probably never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond—maybe a volleyball player or something—all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, sadly, I am rather ivory-skinned, without the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine I was accustomed to. My skin is also rather fair and soft—much like a woman's—and back home I would often get commented on it, much to my chagrin. I never had an ounce of hair on my face—or anywhere besides my groin, _naturally_ —so I didn't have to shave, ever. My face is as smooth as a babies behind, which at first irritated me, but I soon got over it.

Even if I did have the facial hair, I would not be able to maintain it properly.

I had always been pretty skinny, but not too much to look unhealthy; I do have a bit of muscle, though it is obvious that I'm not much of an athlete. I don't have the hand-eye coordination to really play sports without humiliating myself—and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close.

I'm kind of lying to myself, it wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. If I couldn't even find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here?

I don't really feel like I relate to people that are my age. Maybe the truth was that I don't relate to people, period. Sometimes I wonder if I am seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world sees through theirs.

Maybe there is some kind of glitch in my brain.

But hey, I just really need to push through.

I don't know what this place may hold in store for me, so possibly anything could happen. I might come to like it here—though it probably would take some time.

But tomorrow would be just the _beginning._


	2. Chapter 2

**Pairings:** Edward/MALE!Bella (Beckham Messiah Swan)

 **Disclaimer:** I DONT NOT OWN TWILIGHT OR ITS CHARACTERS (except for maybe Beck, he is an OC, even if he is Bella in a way). If I did own twilight, than it would have been much like this story. If you are reading this, then I'm sure you've seen the M rating when you clicked. This means there will be violence and maybe sex later on in the story. So, don't like, don't read.

 **Authors Note:** Holy...DANG! I did _not_ expect the chapter to be this long, but that's how it turned out. So, I guess you are all in for a treat. HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

 **Words:** 5,000 or maybe a bit more.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2**

I didn't sleep well last night. I'm not used to this room, the bed, or the constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the jagged roof. It just wouldn't stop its tirade or even fade into the background, where then it would at least be tolerable. I had pulled my faded old quilt over my head—and later a pillow—at some time in the night to hopefully drown out the chatter.

No such luck.

It couldn't hear myself even hear my own thoughts until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.

The thick fog was all I could see out my window this morning. You could never see the sky here; it kind of felt like a cage.

Breakfast with Charlie was a rather quiet event. He wished me good luck at school and I thanked him, hoping the luck was good enough to maybe set me off on the right track today. I knew this may be wishful thinking—because good luck seemed to avoid me—but I still needed to think positive.

Positivity was the only thing I really had now, besides dad and _Annabelle—_ my beloved she-demon of a truck.

Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table by the windows, in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined the small kitchen. It was still the same as I remembered it: the dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing had changed.

My mom had painted the cabinets around the time they first bought the house. It was a cheap attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were a sight to behold—I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put those into hiding, at least while I was here.

It was a little bit unsettling, being in this house, for multiple reasons; one being that dad still seemingly hadn't let go of mom. Hopefully that wouldn't make things more vexatious than they already were for me.

I didn't want to be too early for school, but I didn't want to stay in this house. It was a bit unsettling for me, especially since the only sound was the soft wind and rain rubbing against the outside of the house. I donned my black jacket—which had the feel of hazmat suit—and headed out into the rain. It was just drizzling at this point, so it wasn't enough to soak me through, at least not yet. I locked the front door and hurried towards Annabelle, unable to stop and admire her as I wanted; I was in too much of a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood. I had tried to tame my wild hair this morning to some extent, but it didn't want to obey, so I had just pulled half of it up, leaving the other half of my dark brown locks down to frame my face. It was a slightly girly hair style, though I didn't mind. It looked nice on me—I think—and it kept the fly-way's under control, so it was all good.

Inside Annabelle, it was nice, dry and warm. I was pretty sure that either Charlie or Billy had cleaned it up, but the seats still smelled slightly of tobacco and gasoline.

 _Ugh_ , truly horrible.

I would need to figure out how to get that smell out of her.

Much to my relief, the engine started up quickly, and I listened as my baby roared to life. I loved her sound, no matter would others might say or think.

Best homecoming gift…

 _Ever._

 **X X X**

Finding the school wasn't really difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school at all; only the sign that declared that it was Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There was so many trees and shrubs that I couldn't see its size at first. From looking at the place, I could tell that this place was going to be completely different from my last school. It was so small compared to what I was used to back in Phoenix, but this place was now going to be my humble prison for the next year and a half. Half, since it was March and in the middle of the semester, junior year. Which was great, more for people to ask questions about. Not that I minded the questions really, but by the end of the day, I was sure I was going to be tired of answering the same things over and over again.

I would just have to get used to it.

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading front office. No one else was parked there, so I was sure that it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of driving around in circles in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of my toasty warm _Annabelle_ and walked down a little stone path lined with dark and dreary hedges. I gathered up my courage and took a much need deep breath before stepping inside.

Inside was very brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was quite small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked carpet clashing with light blue walls horribly, notices and awards were cluttering the walls and a big clock ticking rather loudly. There was plants everywhere, as if there wasn't already enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long orange-ish counter, cluttered with different school related trinkets and colorful flyers posted practically almost everywhere.

There was an older women sitting behind the counter who wore glasses and a simple purple t-shirt. At least I knew I wasn't over-dressed or under-dressed in my faded, baggy, softly ripped grey jeans and slightly tight, long sleeved, dark grey shirt and old black converse. Wrong clothing choice was at least one less worry, I would already stand out enough being the new guy here.

The women looked up from her papers and adjusted her glasses as she looked at me. "Can I help you?"

"I'm, uh—I'm Beckham Swan." I informed her and I saw the almost immediate awareness light her tired and weary eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip, unfortunately.

Son of the Chief's fickle and lubricious ex-wife, come home at last.

I could tell, just from this ladies expression, that this day was going to be a rather long one.

 **X X X**

When I went back out to _Annabelle_ , other students were starting to arrive, and surprisingly the rain had stopped for now. I drove around the school, following the flood of traffic. I was glad to see that some of the cars were like my baby, but mine seemed to be pretty much an older model than others, which I was fine with. My Annabelle was a one of a kind, at least to me. The nicest, or at least expensive car in the lot was a shiny silver Volvo, and it stood out.

 _Big time._

I cut off my babies roaring engine as soon as I was in a reasonable parking spot. I looked at the map for a moment as I sat there, trying to memorize it, so I hopefully wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I knew it was a futile attempt though, I had a rather horrible memory when I actually _wanted_ to remember something. At least the lady at the front office had been kind enough to highlight the best routes to my classes. I was very grateful for that, I had even given her a small smile, which she beamed brightly at. She seemed rather proud of herself at the fact that she had made me smile, even if it was small. I also had a slip that all my teachers would need to sign today before I gave it back to the strange lady at the end of the day.

I stuffed everything into my old black messenger bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and got of the warm comfort of my baby. A few students were stationed by their cars and where leaned back against them talking, but they went silent when they saw me. One of the darker skinned students took one look at Annabelle and grinned cheekily, scoffing a bit.

"Nice ride."

I looked at him with a solemn expression and messed with my hood a bit, wondering if I should just pull it up—I decided against it for now since I would soon be in the building anyway. I heard the amused chuckles of the other students crowded around the cars parked next to mine. I could tell he was being sarcastic and decided to just shrug it off.

"Thanks," was all I said to him, mentally imprecating him for his acerb remark about my malignant truck. I guess he didn't really expect an answer, so he just blinked blankly at me as I walked away.

Once I got around to the cafeteria, building three was rather easy to spot, since a large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I took a deep breath as I headed inside and surveyed the place.

The classroom was rather small in size. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of old silver hooks. I calmly followed their example and then fixed my practically shoulder length chocolate colored hair, refining it back into its reasonably neat half-up-half-down stature.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man, whose messy desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He practically gawked at me when he saw my name and I couldn't help but flush red a little bit at his bewildered expression.

After he regained himself—and signed the sheet—he sent me to an empty desk in the back, thankfully without having to introduce myself. I thought it would be harder for my new classmates to stare at me from the back, but boy, was I completely wrong.

I kept my gaze down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Faulkner and few other recognizable authors. I had already read just about everything here.

 _Perfect_.

This would make things much easier for me in the long run—didn't matter really if it was boring. It less work to catch up on. I wonder if my mom could send me the files of my old essays, or if she would consider that cheating.

 **X X X**

When the bell rang, a horrible nasal and buzzing noise that rattled my ear drums, a gangly asian guy with pale skin, brown eyes, and hair black as oil slick leaned across the aisle to chat with me as I was putting away my things.

"You're Beckham Swan, right?" He kind of looked like the overly helpful, chess club type and even sitting I could tell that he was taller than me—not by much though. He was probably around 6 foot, maybe a centimeter less.

"Beck." I corrected, earning looks from everyone in a three seat radius.

"Where's your next class?"

I frowned a bit, having forgotten and I had to check in my bag. "Um—Government, with Jefferson. Building six."

He seemed to beam at this and got up from his desk, me following suit. "I'm headed that way, building four. I could show you…" Wow, he was rather overly-helpful, but I guess he was just trying to be nice. He didn't seem all too pushy. "I'm Eric."

I smiled faintly and kindly at him, which he returned gleefully. "Thanks."

We got our jackets from the hooks and headed out into the rain, which had picked up considerably. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. How annoying.

"So, this is a lot different from Phoenix, huh?"

"Yeah." I stated simply and fixed my hood so it blocked my head from the rain.

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

I shrugged lightly. "Three or four times a year, it's iffy."

"Wow, what must that be like?" He wondered and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Sunny."

"You don't look very tan."

"My mother is part albino." I joked lightly, with a soft smile gracing my lips.

He seemed to study me apprehensively, and my smile dropped some. It seemed that clouds and a sense of humor just didn't mix. A few months of this and I might forget how to use sarcasm.

How lovely.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south building by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door—practically acting like a custodial boyfriend—even though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck, Beck," he said as I placed my hand on the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together," he stated, sounding rather hopeful.

All I could do was give him a tentative smile before I went inside.

 **X X X**

The rest of the morning passed in a similar fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have disliked anyway because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I was not good in front of a crowd, so naturally I stammered some and blushed a bit, much to my chagrin. Though, the girls in the class were giggling and smiling at how supposedly cute I was being, and I could feel the jealous stares on me from some the guys at the attention I was receiving. Few girls during the classes called me handsome and would flirt, a lot, but I never reciprocated. They were not my type, at all—completely wrong gender.

After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always some that were braver than others and would introduce themselves and would ask questions about how I was liking Forks. It was very repetitive and frankly a bit annoying, but I guessed that the questions would only last for today.

At least I never needed the map.

A guy—named Mike Newton—that I met in gym invited me to sit with him at lunch with his friends. This was after I pelted him in the back of the head with a volleyball, which he had brushed off after finding out that it was me. He was smiling brightly at me the whole walk to the cafeteria, it was a bit unsettling, but I still couldn't help blushing some at his rather obvious advances towards me. The guy was pretty handsome: bit of a baby face, clear blue eyes, pale blonde hair, around 5'11"—still taller than me.

We made it to the cafeteria finally and he got his food with me. When we made it to the table with his friends, he pulled the chair back for me so I could sit.

"Monsieur." Mike said in a gentlemanly like tone, a wide smile gracing his face.

I blushed a tiny bit in embarrassment and sat down gingerly in the seat he pulled out for me, which was right beside the boy Eric that I had met early this morning. He smiled wide at me and then glanced at Mike who had just sat down on the other side of me.

"Hey, Mikey, I see you've met my home boy, Beck," he stated with a grin and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, making me flinch some at the appendage.

I saw Mike blink incredulously and cross his arms over his chest. "Oh—oh, your home boy?" He said with a mock-curious expression.

I didn't have time to react as I heard running footsteps and a kiss was planted on my cheek, by a dark skinned guy—that I soon recognized as Tyler from one of my other classes.

"My boy." Tyler said jokingly, and before anything else could be said, he grabbed Mike's chair from underneath him, making said boy stumble and almost plummet to the floor. "Sorry, I had to mess up your game, Mike!"

I was blinking slightly in shock, trying to regain myself as I watched Mike chase Tyler around the café, the latter laughing his ass off, causing practically everyone to stare at them in amusement. I knew the peck on the cheek was just a joke—and it probably just Tyler being Tyler—but it still surprised me. I scratched my cheek—the one that been kissed—awkwardly and regained my composer as a girl took Mikes seat beside me.

"Oh, my God," she stated quizzically, and I vaguely remembered her as Jessica from my Spanish class and Gym, where I had met Mike. She was a rather small girl—around 5'1"-ish—with blue eyes, and long brown hair, that was held back from her face with a dark blue head-band. "It's like first grade again, you're the shiny new toy," she said with a hint of amusement in her voice, which I smiled faintly at.

Like first grade indeed. Looks like I probably wouldn't have any problems here if I did decide to tell them I was gay. Well, at least, not with these people. They seemed nice enough, though I was not sure about the rest of the student body.

"Smile!" A new girl popped up and I didn't even have a chance to act as the camera in her hands went off, blinding me momentarily. I rubbed my eyes a little bit, getting a chuckle from the new girl and Jessica. After I regained my vision, I looked at the new comer. She was an asian girl, with very dark brown-black hair, light brown eyes covered by faded light pink glasses, and looked to be around 5'11". "Sorry, needed a picture for the feature," she said with a slightly shy smile.

I nodded back shyly and rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a bit tense at the thought of being in the school paper. I already had enough attention on me to begin with. "I—uh…um…"

Eric must have seen how anxious I was and he stood up before I could replay, his hands on the table. "Not doing the feature on Beck, Angela," he said a bit rushed to defend me and went around to my other side and patted my shoulder thoughtlessly. "I've got your back, baby." Eric stated with a wide grin, causing me to stare at him, slightly in shock, as he walked away.

Did he really just call me _baby_?

I heard Jessica sputter and then laugh softly at my clear surprise, while Angela just sighed and fiddled with her camera, looking through the photos.

"I guess we will just run another editorial on teen drinking," she said, sounding rather tired and bothered.

I slowly began to eat after I snapped out of my stupor and looked at Angela's dejected face and frowned agilely.

"You know," I evoked, after swallowing the food in my mouth, "you could always go for, uh—eating disorders." I inquired a bit hesitantly; I really didn't know what I was saying and it seemed they didn't either as they both just gave me blank and uninterested looks at that idea. "Or, um, speedo padding on the swim team," I stated jokingly, trying to ease the slight tension I had put around us.

It seemed to work as they both brightened up at that response, smiling widely. I couldn't help but smile some as well at the response I got from them.

"Actually, that's a good idea." Angela said and finally stopped fiddling with the camera as she began talking rather heatedly to Jessica about some guy named Kirk, now fairly happy with the new abstraction.

I kind of tuned out a bit as they chatted about girly stuff and I glanced around the room, trying not to meet any curious eyes—I knew people were still staring.

That was when I saw _them_.

I don't know how I didn't see them when I first walked in, they completely stood out in the cafeteria, even though they were isolated over in the corner, further away from prying eyes.

There were five of them.

They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so I figured it was okay to look at them without meeting an interested pair of eyes.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big—muscled like a serious weight lifter, with short black, slightly curly hair, and looked around 6'3". The other guy—maybe 6'1"—was leaner, but still muscular, but not like the first guy, and had honey blonde hair, and he kind of looked like he was constantly in pain. The last one was quite handsome to me, even if he did look a bit more boyish than the others, and I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks a bit. The guy was lanky, seemingly around 6'2" and looked to be practically the same muscle build as the honey blond; his hair was slightly untidy and a striking bronze color, which I kind of wanted to run my hands though.

It looked _soft_.

My thoughts were not running in the right direction.

I turned my attention to the girls, which I noted were opposites. The first girl was statuesque and looked to be around 5'7", though she was probably taller in those heels she wore. She had beautiful figure, the kind that you might see on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue and would made all the girls near her have extreme low self-esteem. Her hair was golden, gently waving down to the middle of her back. The other girl was short, and practically pixie like, thin in the extreme, with small features, she probably stood around 5'5". The pixies hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing up in almost every direction.

And yet, they all looked exactly alike. Every one of them was a chalky pale, the palest out of everyone here in this cloudy town, even more than me, which was a bit refreshing and strange. Their eyes were all a brilliant, bright golden color, which was quite stunning. They also all had faint shadows under their eyes—purplish, bruise like shadows. As if they were suffering from a sleepless night or a broken nose. Though, all their features, were straight, perfect and angular. Their faces were so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine.

I had to admit that they were all stunning, but I couldn't help but look—maybe even stare—at the bronze haired guy.

They were all looking away—away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell, but I could have sworn I saw the bronze haired teen glance at me a few times.

As I watched, the small pixie rose with her tray—unopened soda, unbitten apple—and walked away with a quick, graceful step that I thought belonged on a runway. I watched, slightly amazed at her little dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided out through the back door, faster than I could have thought possible. My eyes glanced back to the others, who sat unmoving and unchanging.

"Who are they?" I asked Jessica, keeping my gaze slightly lowered, but still on the bronze-haired teen.

As Jessica looked up to see who I meant—though I was pretty sure she already knew from the curious tone I used—suddenly he looked at me, the lanky one, the boyish one, the youngest, maybe.

Our eyes met for a moment—making me blush some and feel like a stupid school girl—and then he quickly looked away, more quickly than I could. In a flush of slight embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once, favoring the idea of looking at my tray in front of me. His face didn't really hold anything of interest. It was if his name had been called and he looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

I heard Jessica and Angela giggle at my slightly red cheeks and I lifted my head to look at them, glaring a bit playfully. They defiantly knew what—or _whom_ —was making me blush, and I felt rather silly.

"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale." Jessica spoke up, smiling rather giddily. "The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife," she said in a hushed tone.

I dared a glance over at the handsome boy, who was now looking at his tray, picking a bagel to pieces with his pale and magic looking fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, his lips barely opening. The other three were still looking away, and yet I felt like he was speaking to them.

"They are all…very nice-looking." I muttered softly.

Nice-looking was a _major_ understatement.

They were practically Greek God worthy.

"Yes!" Jessica agreed and leaned over to me some, placing her slim forearms on the table. "They're all like together though—Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice; and they all live together," her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town. "I'm not even sure if that's legal."

"Jess," Angela spoke up, "they are not actually related," she said softly and I saw her roll her eyes a bit at Jessica as she placed her camera in her bag carefully.

"Yeah, I know, but it's weird…" Jessica trailed off, which was for the best, but then she decided to speak up once more, this time changing her tone some. "They are all foster children. Doctor Cullen, their foster dad, is like in his twenties or early thirties."

"They look a little old to be foster kids." I said and pushed away my tray, feeling done with it, even though I really only ate half its contents—if even that.

"Oh, yeah, they are now. Jasper and Rosalie, the blonde twins, are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen supposedly since they were eight. She is their aunt or something like that." Jessica said with a slight shrug, and took a bite of her sandwich.

"Wow, that's really nice of them to take care of all those kids like that, when they are so young and everything." I stated, smiling softly, glancing back over at the table for a moment.

I kind of felt respect for the doctor and his wife now.

"I guess so," Jess admitted, albeit a bit reluctantly, causing me to get the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife very much, which confused me. Was it jealousy, maybe? "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have kids though," she added mindlessly.

I was a bit mad at this, but didn't say anything in response. She talked as if Mrs. Cullen's inability to have kids lessoned her and the doctor's kindness. I shifted in my seat and listened as Jessica explained how they moved down here around two years ago from somewhere in Alaska. I kind of figured they were still newish to these parts, because I surely would have noticed them on one of my summers here. I felt kind of relieved, I wasn't the only newcomer or outsider here, and certainly not the more interesting by any standard.

As I looked at them—for probably the hundredth time during the whole conversation—the youngest, of the Cullens, met my gaze for the second time, this time his expression held evident curiosity. It seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation, or like he was trying to figure me out.

"Which one is he?" I asked softly, finally able to pull my eyes from him for a moment.

"That's Edward." Jessica said rather dreamily, obviously knowing who I was talking about—was kind of hard not to know. "He's gorgeous, of course, but he doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls are good enough for him," she grumbled and I couldn't help but wonder when he had turned her down.

"Maybe it's not _girls_ he is interested in." I stated with a light shrug, smiling some.

I was really only _half_ joking, but to my surprise, I got a great response.

Jessica began sputtering in horror at my comment, clearly shocked at the idea of Edward possibly being gay. Angela, on the other hand, was having a hard time not busting out into laughter at her friend's expression. Some other the other nameless people at our table—who had been listening in—were snickering at Jessica's priceless expression, which caused me to bite my bottom lip some, so my smile wouldn't pull into a full blown and cheeky grin.

I glanced over at the table, where I noticed that the muscle builder—Emmett—was laughing at something or another. Rosalie had her brows furrowed at him, as if mentally scolding the big guy and willing him to be quiet, even though she seemed to be fighting a grin of her own. The blonde guy—Jasper—seemed to be a bit unsure, but passive about Emmett's laugher, or the thing that caused it.

My eyes then landed on Edward, unable to resist checking his expression for whatever had caused his families array of reactions. His face was turned away, unfortunately, but I swear I could see his cheek lifted.

As if he were _smiling_.

 _Wow._

What I wouldn't give to have his smile directed at me.

Like _that_ would ever happen.

I really am a wishful thinker.

But hey, can you blame me?

* * *

Waaah! I cant believe I wrote SO much! Damn... Haha. I probably would have written more, but I felt 5,000 words was where it needed to end. So, next chapter I guess Beck will be close to Edward in Biology! LOL!

Anyway! Hope you enjoyed and I will put up chapter 3 when I have time. Please be patient!

 _Love,_

 ** _BLBabe_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Pairings:** Edward/MALE!Bella (Beckham Messiah Swan)

 **Disclaimer:** I DONT NOT OWN TWILIGHT OR ITS CHARACTERS (except for maybe Beck, he is an OC, even if he is Bella in a way). If I did own twilight, than it would have been much like this story. If you are reading this, then I'm sure you've seen the M rating when you clicked. This means there will be violence and maybe sex later on in the story. So, don't like, don't read.

 **Authors Note:** This story revolves around the movie AND the book verse, and Beckham (pronounced: _BECK-uhm_ ) will be like Bella in some ways, but he might make different decisions, act or react differently than to how regular Bella would. I will be trying to stay with the original story line and plot (for now at least, unless I want or need to make a change), so no worries there.

 **Words:** Around 3,500! Sorry if that is short for you :( I don't mean it to be.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 3**

Lunch surprisingly passed very fast for me; it was actually fun to be with Jessica, Angela and the others. I was a bit anxious not to be late for my next class, so I left the cafeteria a few minutes before the bell. I had no idea where I was going and I didn't feel like pulling out my map, but Mike had been nice enough to walk me to Biology II, which was his next class as well. We walked together, chatting a bit, even if he did most of the talking.

He was defiantly flirting with me—like Eric had been—and it made me feel a bit uneasy since I was not used to this type of attention, at least from the gender I was attracted to. I kept blushing at every little advance, which made me feel a bit silly. I knew Eric wouldn't make a big move on me, he seemed a little too shy for that. Mike though, was much bolder.

When we entered the classroom Mike patted my shoulder reassuringly and gave me a smile before he went and sat at a black-topped lab table like the ones I was used to from my old school. Mike already had a neighbor. In fact, all of the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen by his handsome face and unusual hair, sitting next to that single seat.

As I walked further in the room and towards the teacher's desk, so I could introduce myself and get my sheet signed, I was watching him quietly. I stopped at Mr. Banner's—as the name plate read—desk, my hair getting blown some by the large metal fan that was positioned to the side of his cluttered desk and I saw Edward go ridged in his seat and clutch a hand over his mouth. I blinked in confusion at the sight and he stared at me, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face—it looked almost hostile, furious. I looked away, lowering my eyes to the ground for a moment before I heard Mr. Banner speak up.

"Hi, Mr. Swan. Can I have your sheet?" He asked and I looked at him before digging in my bag and pulling out the sheet for him to sign. I purposively kept my eyes on the teacher, watching him sign the pink sheet before he handed it back to me along with a few other sheets and a book. "Welcome to the class," he said with a faint smile and I returned it, hugging the large Biology book to my chest and he motioned to the only opened seat.

Right next to Edward.

Who was strangely now sporting black eyes— _coal black._

I could have sworn his eyes were a honey-golden color.

Did I just imagine it?

"Go ahead and take a seat. Just follow along until you catch up," the teacher added once more before turning away from me and addressing the class. I kept my gaze down some as I went to sit by Edward, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he gave me.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his seat and adverting his face away from me like he smelled something fowl.

What was with this guy?

Was there something _wrong_?

Do I smell _bad_ or something?

Inconspicuously, I smelled a bit of my hair that wasn't pulled back by the hair band. It smelled like vanilla and strawberries, the scent of my shampoo. It seemed like an innocent enough odor.

I shook my head some to clear my thoughts and turned my attention to Mr. Banner, who was giving a lecture on cellular anatomy, which was something I'd already studied. Less work for me, which was fantastic, but I figured I should still take some notes, just in case I do forget something.

I couldn't help myself from peeking occasionally at the strange boy who sat beside me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his still position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand clenching the edge of the table—the edge he gripped looked like it was straining in his fist, almost like it was going to crumble at any moment.

Every time I looked at him, his dark gaze went to me, causing me to look away once more.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight grip on the table to loosen?

It never did; he continued to sit so still that it looked like he wasn't breathing.

Was this normal behavior for him?

I peeked at him once more, and I immediately regretted it. He was glaring at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. I frowned at this and tried shrinking down into my seat, but failed miserably.

If looks could kill, I would be dead by now.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me flinch, and Edward was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose, his back to me, and was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him.

He was such a…

 _Jackass._

I haven't even spoke one word to him, so what could I have possibly done to warrant such a look from him?

"Jeez, did you stab him with a pencil or something?" I heard Mike ask irritably as he came up beside me. I saw the rather annoyed look on his face as he stared at the door Edward had just left through. He seemed almost as frustrated at Edward's actions as me.

"No," I answered simply, rather annoyed myself at the actions the bronze-haired teen sported during class, and began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that was beginning to fill me.

"He is weird. He should have been happy that he was lucky enough to sit by such an awesome guy." Mike said and he patted my shoulder in a reassuring manner.

I gave him a soft smile and said my goodbyes to him before heading in the opposite direction. Mike was a nice guy. He was friendly and clearly admiring.

Though, it wasn't really enough to ease my irritation right now.

 **X X X**

When I walked into the warm office at the end of the day, so I could turn in my paperwork, I almost turned around and walked back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized him by that sexy, tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to finish with him.

He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up on the gist of the argument. He was trying to switch Biology to a different time—any other time—or just change the class completely.

I really couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could just take a sudden, intense dislike to me.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, and swirling a few loose strands of my hair. The girl who came in merely stepped up to the desk, placed a note into the wire basket, and walked out again. I saw Edward's back stiffen and he turned slowly to glare at me—his face absurdly handsome—with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I actually felt a thrill of fear course through me. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.

"Fine," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I guess I will just have to _endure_ it." And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

This made me fume some inside.

He would have to _endure what_?

I went to the desk and handed the lady the slip, which she took with a smile. I could tell that she was tired.

"How was your first day, sweetie?" The receptionist asked in an almost maternal voice.

"It was okay," I lied, my voice having a small hint of irritation.

When I got back to Annabelle, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing I had to home in this damp green hole. I sat inside my baby for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly in thought.

It had been one long day, and it wasn't even over yet. I still had to head back to Charlie's house and figure out what was going to be for dinner, since I had told Charlie I would be assigned kitchen duty.

Maybe I could have him take me out to eat tonight, even though I rarely did that back home. I didn't like it much when food dripped with heavy grease and stuff—which they did at most restaurants.

Right now though, I wouldn't really mind. I could go for a nice burger and some fries. Going out would also prevent me from sitting in my room and fuming about Edward Cullen for the rest of the evening.

Plus, even if I did like cooking, I didn't really feel like doing it today. Not that I could if I even wanted to. I had found out the first night here that he had no food in the house.

I am a bit of a midnight snacker. Not healthy, but it didn't really matter. I could eat as much as I want and never gain a pound, which is cool. _No_ fat on my body— _not much_ manly muscle either.

I guess I will be going out grocery shopping tomorrow after school.

I finally got cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and Annabelle roared to life. I smiled softly at her sound and headed back to Charlie's house.

 **X X X**

Charlie didn't even put up a fight when I said I wanted to go out to eat that night. I was thankful for that, even if the dinner was a bit awkward. We went to a small place called Carver Café, it was a nice place. I had a garden burger and some fries. Our waiter, Cora—a nice, darker skinned women with very curly hair—kept saying that she couldn't believe how grow up I was, and handsome I had become. She ended up making me blush in embarrassment each time, which made me feel like a child.

I felt even more like a child when she brought over my favorite dessert after dinner: Berry Cobbler. I literally inhaled it in 2 seconds flat. I hadn't had it since the last time I had been here, or when mom got some for me on my birthdays.

I always preferred it over a birthday cake.

Another strange thing about me to add to the long list.

After Charlie and I got home, I excused myself and headed to my room. As much as I didn't want to do my homework, I knew I had to. New student or not, they weren't going to go easy. Guess they thought I could handle it—which I could, but I was just tedious to sit for a long time. I already knew most of the material, so it made things easier, but it was boring. I kind of want to read or do something new.

 **X X X**

"So, listen sweetie, if spring training goes well, we could be moving to Florida."

Mom spoke into the phone as I sat crossed-legged on my bed, binder open in lap—showing off my jumbled scribble of work—and pen in hand. I had been half way through my homework when my phone began to perform the chorus of "Crosses," sung by José González. It practically made me jump out of my skin in surprise when the song suddenly echoed throughout my room; I had been concentrating on homework in silence, so it was a bit shocking to suddenly have it disturbed. I'm a big fan of music like that: the slow and comforting beat that could only make one smile. I love fluid melodies, at least usually; piano, violin and acoustic guitar are my favorite instruments to hear in songs. I would love to learn how to play them, but as I mentioned before, I do not have much coordination when it comes to most things. It isn't just sports that I am completely awful at.

Maybe if I had 3 lifetimes worth to try, then just _maybe_ I could one day be able to play.

Mom had been a bit angry at first; I had yet to pick up my phone and call her like I had said I would. Thankfully, I did not take much to calm her down as I thought it would.

I was about to answer when I got cut off by the sound of an automated voice coming through the phone, it asking to insert another 1.25$ for more time. I smiled some at this, placed my phone on speaker—tired of holding it to my ear—and shifted myself on my bed some, so I was a bit more comfortable.

"Mom, where's your cell?" I asked her, sure that she was able to hear the amusement in my voice. I heard the jingling of coins for a moment before she spoke up again, a hint of playful annoyance in her tone.

"Don't laugh at me, Beckham," she started, saying my full name. "I didn't lose my power cord. It ran away, screaming. I literally repel technology now."

I could not help it and laughed lowly at this, practically smiling from ear to ear at my most likely pouting mother on the other end of the line. My mother always had bad encounters with technology; she was just no good at all around it. It seems that technology did not care for her much, and it is kind of amusing.

I miss her, so much.

"I miss you, mom."

"Aw, honey, I miss you too," she cooed in a motherly volume that I was so familiar with. It was her _you-are-my-precious-little-baby-boy_ voice. I would usually be annoyed at her for speaking to me like a child, but this time I could only let it slide and take it in for all it was worth. The line went silent for a moment before mom spoke again, changing the subject to one that she sounded excited to hear about.

"Tell me about your new school. What are the kids like? Are there any cute guys?" She fired off questions, the smile on her face evident in her tone. Mom liked to talk boys with me, which was sometimes a good thing—when I needed to talk—but it also could be annoying and embarrassing. "Are they being nice to you?"

I frowned at her last question and bit my bottom lip in annoyance as Edward Cullen's face floated through my mind. Even just seeing his face in my head irked me. No matter how handsome and God like he may be, his attitude still made me angry. "Well," I stated through ground teeth, "they are all very welcoming."

"Uh-oh, tell me about it." I heard mom say in a benignant tone as she heard me grind my teeth together in frustration into the phone.

"It doesn't even matter." I closed my binder in dissatisfaction and shoved it off my lap and onto my bed, a few papers coming loose from its confinements.

"Yes, it does, sweet-pea," she said in her motherly tone again, this time it making me a little agitated. My anger was not her fault, it was Edward- _fucking_ -Cullen's, so I had no right to take it out on my worried mother.

"I—I have homework to do." I told her softly, wanting to hang up before I possibly went off on her. She did not deserve it, she was only concerned about me. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay, I love you," she spoke up after a moment, probably having been considering if she should leave this conversation alone or not. Responsively, she seemed to get the hint that I did not want to speak of it.

Thank you for understanding, mom. You are the best.

"Love you too, mom," I said before hanging up and tossing my phone on the bed in front of me, my shoulder length hair falling messily in my face. Its slight natural curls sticking up all over the place in harmony with how many sore emotions I was feeling.

Today had been long and to be honest, I was not too interested in what tomorrow would bring for me.

 **X X X**

The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all of the students at school. In gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I was more than willing to stay out of everyone's way. I could do well without a black eye, thank you very much.

Edward Cullen didn't come back to school.

Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullen's entered the cafeteria without him. Then I could relax and join in the lunchtime conversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to La Push Beach in two weeks that Mike was putting together. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, mostly out of politeness than really desire.

By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer concerned that Edward might be there. For all I know, he had dropped out of school. I tried not to think about him, but I couldn't totally suppress the worry—and slight anger—that I was responsible for his continued absence. As ridiculous as it seemed.

One night during dinner with Charlie—I had made some steak and potatoes for him and me—I decided to bring up the Cullen's and he surprised me by being angry. I had only mentioned how the Cullen's did not seem to fit in well at school and how they were a bit different. I didn't really mean anything bad by it at that time, but he ranted away.

 _"Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world and make ten times the salary he gets here. We are lucky to have him—lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He is an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them, but they're all very mature—I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together like family should—camping trips every other weekend… Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk."_

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard Charlie make. He must feel strongly about whatever people were saying.

I made a note not to mention the Cullen's around him.

My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, unused to spending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend. I cleaned the house from top to bottom, got ahead on my homework, and talked more with mom when I could. I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I didn't bother getting a card; I would have to make a date to visit Seattle soon and find a good bookstore. I wondered what kind of gas mileage my Annabelle got—as much as I loved my baby, I could only shudder at the thought.

The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well.

The temperature was dropping though, day by day, and I knew without a doubt, that Monday morning would bring some snow.

* * *

Hey everyone, I know it has been a while. I just go my laptop fixed (took much longer than I thought) so I will be trying to update more often. Maybe a chapter every week or so, depending on college traffic. Don't expect fast updates, please. I am trying my best with my schedule. I already have an outline practically done for chapter 4, so that should be up in the next few days or so. YAY! But yeah, this is just a quick update on how things are going. Anyway, look forward to chapter 4!

Beckham's ringtone is on YouTube. It is the song "Crosses" sung by José González. The end of the link is **-** watch?v=PcKnlhL97rs

 _Love you all,_

 ** _BLBabe_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Pairings:** Edward/MALE!Bella (Beckham Messiah Swan)

 **Disclaimer:** I DONT NOT OWN TWILIGHT OR ITS CHARACTERS (except for maybe Beck, he is an OC, even if he is Bella in a way). If I did own twilight, than it would have been much like this story. If you are reading this, then I'm sure you've seen the M rating when you clicked.

This story revolves around the movie AND the book verse, and Beckham (pronounced: _BECK-uhm_ ) will be like Bella in some ways, but he might make different decisions, act or react differently than to how regular Bella would. I will be trying to stay with the original story line and plot (for now at least, unless I want or need to make a change), so no worries there.

 **Words:** A little over 5,000! So, a lot :) I honestly can't believe that I typed so much, but I guess it gives you a good long update, so anyone feels sedated while waiting for the next chapter. I honestly don't know how long it will take to do the 5th chapter, but please be patient!

Also, to anyone bothering to read this, please leave a kind review, even if you are a guest. I am losing a little motivation while writing these chapters, because I feel that no one is liking it much. I do like writing this plot bunny of a story, but unless people like it, I don't know if I will get to the end. I hate not finishing stories and I would love to have one solid and finished story on my profile. So, please, leave a review if you can, even if it is small. A tiny little "good job" would even make my day ten times more amazing.

Anyway, I think I have bothered you enough, so here is chapter 4! ENJOY!

* * *

 **CHAPTER 4**

People greeted me in the parking lot on Monday morning. I didn't know all of their names, but I waved back and smiled nimbly at everyone, trying not to slip on the ice again this morning. Charlie had already watched me plummet onto my ass this morning when I came out of the house.

Ice doesn't really help the uncoordinated like me.

Charlie had gone out of his way to put some new tires on my baby so she was ready for the ice and slush that was to come. I was very grateful to him for going to the lengths to protect my girl—even if it was mostly just to keep me safe and not swerve off the road.

Luckily, it wasn't snowing— _yet_ —but it is cold enough for ice, so I'm sure that the snow isn't very far behind. At least it was not pouring down rain today like had been all last week.

Charlie also informed me that he would be home late tonight, so I should just wrap up any leftovers for him. Apparently, a security guard at Grisham Mill, in Mason County, had been killed by some wild animal. This surprised me a great deal, but I had to remind myself that I wasn't in Phoenix anymore.

In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Withering Heights; it was straight forward and easy enough.

All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point. More comfortable than I had ever expected to feel here.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind tousled my hair some and bit at my cheeks and nose. I knew it was only a matter of time before it would snow.

"Wow." Mike said with a smile. "It's snowing."

I looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face.

"Hm," that was my only response to Mike's clear enthusiasm.

"Don't like the snow?" Mike asked, giving me an incredulous look as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders in a ferment manner. I just shook my head, not really paying attention to the friendly appendage.

"No, it just means that it's too cold to rain," I muttered, stating the obvious, shrugging my shoulders some with my monotonous answer.

Mike seemed to find that funny and he laughed in a perky manner, before a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head. His arm quickly dropped from my shoulders as we both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us—in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike apparently had the same notion and I watched him bend over and begin scraping together a pile of white slush.

This was going to get messy and wet, _very soon._ Time for my hasty retreat; I did not wish to be a walking ball of ice and wet mush for the rest of the school day.

"I'll see you later, okay?" I said as I kept walking, a slight smile on my lips. "Once people start throwing wet stuff, it's my que to go inside."

Mike just nodded, his eyes on Eric's retreating figure.

 **X X X**

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept quiet. Sure, it was drier than usual, so it was not really a problem—until it melted in your socks.

I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Mush balls were flying everywhere. I kept my binder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if the need ever arose. Jessica seemed to think I was hilarious, but my half-hearted glare kept her from lobbing a snowball at me herself.

Mike caught up to us we walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward the table in the corner out of habit, and then I froze where I stood.

There were _five_ people at the table.

 _He_ was back. _Edward Cullen_.

Jessica pulled my arm, snapping me out of my frigged stupor.

"Hello? Beck, honey, what do you want?"

I looked down, my slightly wet, almost shoulder length hair dangling in face. I usually straighten my hair some in the mornings because of the natural waves and curls it has, but some of that process was lost due to the wet flakes falling on it. Jessica had commented me on my hair in Spanish class, saying that it made me look "sensual," and that the natural slight influx made it look "sex-tossed" or "risqué." Which to her—and every girl within a two seat radius—was _incredibly hot._ I believe I even heard a few muttered agreements from one or two guys in hearing range.

I could feel that my cheeks were hot, and I had to remind myself that I had no reason to feel put off about Edwards actions. I had not done anything wrong.

"Hey, Beck, you alright?" I heard Mike ask in a troubled tone.

"Oh, yeah," I murmured softly, getting a hold of myself fairly easy and looked toward my concerned friends. "I'm fine," I added and caught up to the end of the line. "And I'll just have some apple juice today."

"Aren't you hungry?" Jessica asked, frowning softly.

"No, not much anymore," I stated flimsily, honestly feeling a tiny bit queasy. I eyed her face quickly, wanting to check her expression. It was clear that she was bothered by my mellow tone and actions, but she let it pass once I gave her a small smile of reassurance.

I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to our usual table, my eyes looking anywhere else but the Cullen's table.

I just sipped my juice quietly, listening to everyone's conversations with meager interest. Twice Mike asked, with a multitude of unnecessary concern, how I was feeling. I told him it was nothing and not to worry about me, but he didn't seem to buy it much. Angela suggested that I should head to the nurse's office for a while, but I turned that down.

As good as that idea sounded, it was still ridiculous. I should not have to run away; I would _not_ run away.

I decided to permit myself one glance at the Cullen family's table, just to see if _he_ was glaring at me.

I kept my head slightly lowered and glanced up under my long and feminine like lashes, my hair hanging slightly in my field of vision—though it not hindering me from spotting my target. None of them were looking this way and I allowed my head to lift up an inch.

They were laughing. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping self toward them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else—only they looked more like a scene straight out of a movie than the rest of us.

But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was. I examined Edward the most carefully. His skin was less pale and the circles under his eyes were much less noticeable, but there was something much more. I couldn't help but ponder and stare at him, trying to isolate the change.

"Beck, what are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, her eyes following my line of sight.

At that precise moment, his eyes flashed to over to meet mine.

Our eyes locked for a moment before I dropped my head a bit, my hair falling to conceal my face some. I was sure, in the instant our eyes met, that he did not look harsh or unfriendly as the last time I'd seen him. He looked almost curious, unsatisfied, and ravenous in some way.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you." Jessica giggled playfully in my ear.

I was sure Jessica knew I was gay, but she still seemed to like hitting on me, though this time it was more teasing than out right flirting. She seemed to have distinguished that Edward Cullen affected me in some way. Whether it was good or bad though, she didn't give the impression of knowing.

"He doesn't look angry, does he?" I couldn't help but ask her, lifting my head just enough to peak at her beside me.

"No," she said, sounding rather confused at my strange question. "Should he be?"

"I just—I don't think he likes me," I confided to her softly.

"The Cullen's don't like anybody…" she started to say, but then paused and back-tracked some. "Well, they don't notice anyone enough to like them," she spoke candidly, before a full blown cheeky grin came to her lips. "But he is still staring at you."

"Stop looking at him," I hissed, unable to hide my slightly flushed cheeks.

Jessica snickered elatedly and complied, looking away. I lifted my head enough to make sure that she did, contemplating foul play if she resisted and decided to keep teasing me.

Mike interrupted us then—he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed pretty enthusiastically, and I could tell by the way she looked at Mike that she would do whatever he suggested. I kept silent, not really wanting to partake in a slush fest after school. I might have to hide out in the school building after class, either that, or use my binder shield again to protect myself from projectile sludge so I could make it to my Annabelle.

 **X X X**

For the rest of the lunch hour I kept my eyes at my table, not wanting to meet Edward's curious gaze again—I could feel his eyes on me. I was a little nervous at the thought of sitting next to him again; my stomach was doing little flips.

I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual—he seemed to be a popular target for the snowball snipers—but when we went to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was pouring down rain, washing all the traces of the snow away. I pulled my dark green hood up over my head, a bit pleased, but still indifferent about this change. I could still get soaked and frozen, but at least I could head straight home without being pelted with balls of ice.

Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.

Once inside the warm confinements of the classroom, I saw with slight relief that my table was still empty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door and just got ready for class, pulling out anything I might need from my bag and taking off my hoodie, so I wouldn't get too hot during the class period. I would put it back on before I had to go back outside into the icy-cold.

I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but I didn't look over to see who it was.

I already _knew._

"Hello," said a quiet, melodious voice

I looked to him, a bit stunned that he was speaking to me—that I had not expected. He was still sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled towards me. His hair was dripping wet, disheveled—even so, he looked like he'd just finished shooting a commercial for hair gel. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips, but his eyes seemed almost wary.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get a chance to introduce myself last week. I'm Edward Cullen," he continued. "You're Beck?"

My mind was spinning marginally in confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? He seemed perfectly polite now. I needed to answer; he was waiting, but I couldn't really think of anything conventional to say.

"Um—yeah," I muttered softly, the best response I could manage at the moment.

Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at the moment. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly, without any help from our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right.

"Now, get started." Mr. Banner said with a soft clap of his hands, a smile tugging on his lips as he went back to his desk.

"You first, partner?" Edward asked as he slid the microscope closer to me with the back of his hand, a soft, beautiful crooked smile on his lips.

I bit my bottom lip some, feeling a little flushed from his handsome smile. I got started and snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40x objective. Luckily, I knew what I was doing; I had already done a similar lab to this back at my old school, in my advanced placement program, with whitefish blastula.

"You—" I grunted, catching his full attention as I gripped the microscope. "You were gone." I tried once more, as I studied the slide briefly and got my assessment of the first slide.

"Yeah, I was out of town for a couple of days." I heard Edward speak agilely, placing his forearms on the table. "Personal reasons," he finished, adjusting himself some in the seat. He seemed very on edge and off, almost uncomfortable looking.

I nodded my understanding, my wavy hair falling in my face some and I had to push it back some so it didn't hinder with seeing the slides. It went silent for a moment, before I voiced myself and told him my assessment.

"Prophase." I felt confident in my evaluation.

"Do you mind if I look?" He asked as I began to remove the slide. His hand caught mine, to stop me, as he asked. His fingers were ice-cold, like he had been holding them in a snow drift before class. But that wasn't why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When he touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current had passed through us.

It strangely wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but a good one.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. However, he continued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, still staggered and rubbed my hand where it had been touched as he examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had.

"It's Prophase," he agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on our worksheet.

"Like I said." I said in a hushed, elated tone, a small smile on my lips. I saw an affable grin grace his handsome face as he looked at me, it most likely a response from my playfulness.

He went quiet, as if contemplating, before opening his mouth to speak. "So," he started, clearly changing the subject, "you enjoying the rain?"

I blinked, a bit dumbfounded. Was he really asking me about the _weather_?

I huffed anxiously, smiling gently, and slicked my hand back through my wavy hair, getting it from my face once more. He watched me, concentrating on every small shift or move that I made.

"What?" He asked naively, smiling at my clear astonishment to his question. I looked at him, raising a brow a bit and fiddled with one of the long, slightly tight sleeves of my plain black shirt.

"You're asking me about the weather?" I asked incredulously, still pulling some on my sleeve restlessly, unable to stop the pleasant upward tug of my lips.

This guy is very _strange_ , and maybe even in a _good_ way—if that is possible.

"Yeah," he maundered, maybe regretting the mundane question a bit, "I guess I am."

"Well, I don't really like the rain or snow," I said honestly, eyeing his somehow intrigued expression. "Any cold, wet thing, I don't really…" I trailed off, chuckling smoothly and shaking my head a bit, it an attempt to clear my thoughts.

Edward must have found my answer to be amusing, because he let out a silky snicker and his lips towed into a handsome smile, showing off his flawless pearly whites.

He has an impressive smile. It practically makes me melt in my seat.

I watched him silently as he turned back to the microscope and swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and then glance at it curiously.

"Anaphase," he murmured, writing it down as he spoke.

"May I look?" I kept my voice indifferent—and maybe a bit coltish.

He smirked some and pushed the microscope to me.

I pushed a strand of hair away from my face and then looked through the microscope eagerly, and came up a bit disappointed. Damn, he was right.

He looked at me, expecting and knowing my answer. "Anaphase," I stated, causing his smirk to widen.

"Like I said," he mimicked gently and I couldn't help but laugh softly at his zippy actions. I shifted in my seat and watched him as he slowly put the third slide under the microscope. "If you hate the rain and the cold so much," he picked back up on our last conversation, "then why did you move to the wettest place in the continental US?"

I was a bit startled by this. No one had asked me that—not straight out like he did.

"I—uh…It's complicated," I grumbled, rubbing my forearm in a soft manner, feeling a little uncomfortable talking about this subject. I'd never really voiced the reason of coming here to anyone, not even Charlie is quite sure of the nature of my decision.

He looked fascinated by my response, for what reason, I don't know. His face was such a distraction that I tried not to look at it any more than courtesy allowed me to.

"I'm sure I can keep up," he pressed lightly.

I paused for a long moment, looking away from him, and let out a much needed breath of air. I couldn't fathom his interest, but he continued to stare at me with his penetrating gaze, awaiting my response, as if my dull life story was somehow vitally important.

"My mom remarried, and…" I trailed off, frustrated some.

"Do you not like the guy?" He inquired, still looking strangely interested.

I shook my head and shifted on my stool, turning a little more to him. "No—no, that's not it. Phil's really nice," I stated and looked at Edward straight on, making the mistake of looking him in the eyes. It is strange. Today, his eyes were a completely different color: a strange ocher, darker than butterscotch, but the same nice golden tone.

Did he get contacts or something?

I didn't get the chance to ask as he suddenly went back to work, pulling the microscope close and taking a peak at the third slide that he had put in a bit ago. After a swift moment, he pulled back and wrote down on the paper in the third spot.

"Metaphase," he said simply and looked back toward me, motioning towards the microscope with his hand. "Want to check it?"

I blatantly shook my head, giving him a faint smile. "No, I trust your assessment."

We went into a comfortable silence and we finished before anyone else came close. I could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had their book open under the table.

Which left me with nothing to do but try and not look at him, unsuccessfully. I glanced at him, he was staring at me, that strange look of frustration in his eyes—those very curious and strange eyes. I wanted to ask him if he wore contacts, but his keen expression kept me from opening my mouth.

Class time passed and soon Mr. Banner called the class to order, and I listened with slight relief. He went over assignments and the corrections for the slides on the projector. I tried to appear attentive for the rest of the period, but my thoughts were unmanageable.

 **X X X**

"Why didn't you move with your mother and Phil?"

Edward, unlike last Monday, had followed me out of the class room today. He apparently still had questions on his mind, one being why I was here, considering how I detest the cold and rain. Everyone had been shocked when he said he would walk with me, especially Mike who had tried to grab my bag and carry it like he did every day. I always imagined Mike like a loyal puppy, with a wagging tail and ears—he certainly trailed after me like one, but this time Edward took his place. He didn't take my bag though, which was a nice change. No matter what I told Mikey he would insist on carrying my things and I would eventually let him. I had tried to imagine Edward with some ears and a wagging tail, it had been amusing and made me chuckle mentally—the puppy features didn't really suit him at all.

"Well, Phil's a minor league baseball player," I stated, walking side by side with him, heading towards my locker so I could grab my book for my next class, "and he travels a lot." I adjusted my hoodie in my arms and came to stand in front of my locker. "My mom stayed home with me, but I knew it made her unhappy, so I—um—figured I would stay with my dad for a while." I finished and leaned back up against the lockers, peering up slightly at Edward as he loomed over me a bit.

"And now you're unhappy," he pointed out, it not really seeming like a question, but I could tell that he was still a bit confused.

I frowned at this and shifted back and forth on my feet, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "No," I stated timidly, crossing my arms a bit, but not in a defensive or off-putting way.

"I'm sorry," he stared down at me with a calculating and frustrated expression. "I'm just trying to figure you out. You are very difficult for me to read."

I didn't have a clue as to how I should respond to this. I'm surprised that he can't read my face, it's easy to read according to my mother. She always calls me her open book. I stared up at him and met his eyes once more—my thoughts centered back to that particular subject of color change.

"Hey, did you get contacts?" I blurted out, unthinkingly, what was on the forefront of my mind.

"No," he denied swiftly, furrowing his brows some as he board down at me, his gaze skeptical.

"They were black the last time I saw you." I prodded, keeping my gaze looked with his. "Now they are like a golden brown—"

"Yeah, I know," he interrupted and adverted his gaze from mine, now seeming frustrated and tense. I could see his shoulders go stiff—it almost looked like he wasn't breathing, he was so still. "It's the—um, the fluorescents," he inquired hastily.

I was very confused and flustered, and I got even more so when Edward spun on his heel and took off down the hall without another word. I stared after him, dumbfounded and pushed myself up off the lockers, standing straight.

I have no idea what just happened.

Edward Cullen really messes with my head.

 **X X X**

I didn't really focus much for the rest of the school day, my mind sublimely occupied by Edward and his outlandish behavior. The guy had to be bipolar or something, because his mood seemed to change very fast and very sudden—it's a little unnerving.

I am also a bit frightened of the hostility I sometimes felt emanating from him, and how I am tongue-tied or scrambled in the brain when I think of his perfect face. I really should avoid him entirely, especially after my brainless babbling today, and his weird attitude after Biology. I am suspicious of him; why would he lie about his eyes? I guess it's good that he was not rude like he was my first day here, and he at least talked to me, even if the conversations seemed a bit forced in the beginning. I really need to evict him from my head, because he is taking up too much valuable space.

After my last class I headed outside to my Annabelle, messily trying to shove my textbook into my bag along the way. It had stopped raining for the moment—so I did not need to rush—but the pavement was still icy and very slick.

The teacher had decided to give us extra homework today for some reason, so I would have to take my bulky text book home for reference on the material. Sadly, the bulky book did not want to corporate with me and fought back against the constraints of my old messenger bag.

I grunted softly in frustration and placed my bag on Annabelle's large hood for support and used both hands to gingerly force the book in. I huffed in relief as the book finally went in and I zipped my bag back up, not giving its contents any chance of escape. I would probably have to get a bigger bag if I was going to be tugging a textbook home every few days.

I was pulled out of my ramblings by a sudden high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. I turned around, looking over startled, my eyes becoming wide.

A big van, Tyler's van, was sliding out of control.

 _It was coming right at me._

I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, like the way it does in the movies. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once.

Edward Cullen was standing on the other side of the lot, next to a silver Volvo, staring at me in horror and worry. His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock, but more immediate importance was the van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the side of my truck, and I was standing between them. I couldn't even move, frozen, I didn't even have time to close my eyes.

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not the way I was expecting. My head cracked roughly against the side of my truck, and I felt something cold, firm and strong against the side of my body. I was sitting on the icy pavement, back against the side of my bulky Annabelle.

A low oath made me aware that someone was with me, and the voice was impossible not to recognize. A long, white hand shot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the large hand fitting providentially into a deep dent in the side of the van's body.

My breath was staggered, uneven, and I turned my head and looked up with spinning vision into the ample eyes of Edward Cullen. I didn't move, unable to with him holding me against him in a possessive, iron grasp. His face was so very, very close, enough so that our foreheads brushed against each other—our lips could almost touch.

His slightly expanded eyes told me that he was just as surprised by this revelation as I was, but his expression soon turned to one of distress. It was silent for one long second before the screaming began—I could hear more than one person shouting my name. I felt a shift in Edwards grip and I watched him as he slowly released me, his other hand sliding from the large divot he made in Tyler's van. He looked at me, eyeing me carefully, as if checking to see if I was unharmed. After his evaluation, seemingly pleased, he turned in one swift movement and climbed over the back of my truck quickly, leaving my vision of sight.

I didn't have a chance to get a hold of myself as the calls of my name got louder and Mike, Angela, Jessica, Eric and other students piled around me, concerned for me and my well-being. My pounding head was going a hundred miles an hour, and all I could really hear were muffled voices as I was gingerly lifted off the ground by Mike and Angela. I faintly heard an apology from Tyler, people shouting to call 911 and worried pleas from my friends surrounding me. All the deadened bellows were just making my head hurt more—they needed to be quiet.

I am completely fine.

Edward had _saved me_ from being crushed.

He had _stopped_ the spiraling hunk of metal.

He had _stopped_ it with his _hand_.

How is that even possible?


	5. Chapter 5

**Pairings:** Edward/MALE!Bella (Beckham Messiah Swan)

 **Disclaimer:** I DONT NOT OWN TWILIGHT OR ITS CHARACTERS (except for maybe Beck, he is an OC, even if he is Bella in a way). If I did own twilight, than it would have been much like this story. If you are reading this, then I'm sure you've seen the M rating when you clicked.

This story revolves around the movie AND the book verse, and Beckham (pronounced: _BECK-uhm_ ) will be like Bella in some ways, but he might make different decisions, act or react differently than to how regular Bella would. I will be trying to stay with the original story line and plot (for now at least, unless I want or need to make a change), so no worries there.

 **Words:** This chapter has a little over 3,000 words! Sorry if it is short, I practically pushed this chapter out and this ending seemed to fit at the moment, so I stopped it there. If I did continue it then it probably would have drifted into over 7,000 words eventually and I didn't want it that long! LOL :) But anyway, hope you enjoy it as it is! Read on my babies! :D

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 **CHAPTER 5**

After I got to the hospital, they put me in the emergency room, a long white room with a line of beds separated by pastel-pattered curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and was panicked and flustered about how my condition. Although, I knew I was completely fine, aside from the fact that I have an ear-splitting headache. Since no one bothered pulling the curtains around to give me some privacy, I decided I wasn't obligated to wear the stupid-looking neck brace anymore. When the nurse walked away, I quickly unfastened the velcro and threw it under the bed.

There was another flurry of hospital personnel, another stretcher brought to the bed next to me. I recognized Tyler Crowley from my Government class beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around his head. Tyler looked hundred times worse than I felt, but he was staring anxiously at me.

"Beck, I am so sorry!"

"I'm fine, Tyler," I said with a soft shake of my head, which I regretted doing right after. I let the throbbing in my head calm down for a moment before voicing myself again. "You look like hell, are you alright?" As we spoke, nurses began unwinding his solid bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all over his forehead and cheeks.

He ignored me. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast and I hit the ice wrong," he winced as one of the nurses started to dab at his face.

"Don't worry about it. No harm, no foul."

Tyler flinched away in pain from the nurses treating his cuts, seeming to still have questions, but his attention was now being forced onto the fusing women. I could tell from his expression that he was confused on how I wasn't hit. I couldn't really answer his questions accurately, because even I was still confused. Although, me trying to deduce what exactly happened was not good for my swirling head at this moment. I should have been hit, even killed, but Edward had stopped the van.

I knew I wasn't crazy. There was no way to explain what I'd seen—I couldn't believe it, so I doubted anyone else would either.

A while later my dad finally came in and fused over me, and constantly threated to take Tyler's license away. I had just barely calmed him down enough before I was wheeled me away to get an X-ray of my head. I told them there was nothing wrong, and that I was alright. Not even a concussion. I then asked them if I could leave, but one nurse said I had to talk to the doctor first. So, I was trapped in the ER, waiting, harassed by Tyler's constant apologies and promises to make it up to me. No matter how many times I tried to convince him I was fine, he continued to torment himself. Finally, I just laid back, closed my eyes and relaxed, brushing off his words. He kept up his remorseful mumblings, until a voice broke him out of it. My dad's voice.

I opened my eyes and saw my dad close the curtain angrily, dividing the space between me, Tyler and himself. I was a bit thankful for his return, at least it would get Tyler silent for a little bit, him not wanting to make my dad more furious than he already was.

A few more sporadic moments and thoughts passed before the double doors opened and a remarkably appealing voice filled the air.

"I heard the Chef's son was here."

I looked over and my jaw fell open. The doctor was young, blonde, and was handsomer than any movie star I'd seen. He seemed to be around 6 foot, was very pale, and tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Charlie's description from a while back, this had to be Edward's father.

"Ah, Dr. Cullen," my dad answered, confirming my suspicions, while his hands rested on his hips in an almost impatient manner.

"Charlie," the doctor responded with a nod and beaming smile, showing pearly white teeth as he walked over to where I sat. Did everyone in the family have perfect teeth? He had a large clipboard stacked with papers in his hand and he flipped through some sheets as he came to a stop in front of me. "So, Beckham…"

"Beck," I tried to correct kindly, which earned me a small smile.

"Well, Beck," he repeated smoothly, "it seems like you took quite a spill. How are you feeling?" Dr. Cullen asked and I frowned softly, hoping that I wouldn't be detained for much longer, or get prodded at with more concerned questions. I would already be expecting tons of worried queries tomorrow from my classmates—if I was even allowed to return.

"I'm fine, honestly."

"That's great," he said with a quirk of his lips and I watched him as he stared at a sheet he had flipped to on his pad. "I checked your X-rays before checking on you and everything seemed good."

I could see Charlie visually relax where he stood after hearing the doctor's statement. I couldn't help but mentally sigh at that, he obviously hadn't believed me when I told him I was fine.

The doctor then put the pad down nearby and placed his cool fingers on my temples, probing lightly around the area, causing me to wince some at the stinging feeling. He seemed to notice my slight pain and looked down at me, a bit concerned, causing my dad to frown along with him.

"Tender?" Dr. Cullen asked in a soft and kind tone.

"A little," I admitted a bit reluctantly; though, I had had much worse before. I watched the doctor as he grabbed his board once more and jotted a few scribbles of information down. I really wanted to bring up Edward, he was the only thing on the forefront of my throbbing skull. It may be against my better judgement, but I wanted to see what the doctor knew. If he actually did know anything in the first place. "It—uh, might have been much worse if Edward hadn't been there to knock me out of the way," I said, trying to be as calm as possible, as to not deter the man if he did know something.

This seemed to confuse my dad a bit and he glanced at me with furrowed brows, before looking back at the doctor, who hadn't lifted his gaze from his papers, suddenly very interested in them. "Edward? Your boy?"

Dr. Cullen slowly lifted his head and gazed at Charlie and then me, his eyes flickering with some unknown emotion. When he didn't answer after a few moments, I decided to continue, answering for Charlie as well.

"Yeah, it was amazing. I mean, he got to me so fast—he wasn't anywhere near me."

"Sounds like you were very lucky," the doctor finally spoke up quickly, staring at me deeply, a stiff smile gracing his handsome and pale features.

All I could do was nod airily at his response.

My intuition was flickering and my gut twisted fiercely.

The doctor _was_ in on it, either that or he knew something.

I needed to talk to Edward.

I needed to talk to him, _now._

 **X X X**

Dad had dismissed himself to go sign some papers for my sign out, leaving me to wallow in discomposure from my buzzing head, which flashed constant images of the accident. I stood, leaning up against a light blue shaded wall, next to the corner of a long hall that dragged on behind me. I was very fidgety and was unable to stop the fierce grating my thoughts created on the inside of my skull. Each and every one of them was centered on Edward and his impossible feat.

Being in the dark was making me restless and aggravated beyond belief. I wanted to confront Edward, make him tell me what had happened. Make him explain to me everything, because right now all I was going to do was fuss over it, until I got proper answers from him. Things never change with him, it was like I was back to square one, day one, wanting answers for his behavior in Biology.

"What was I supposed to do? Let him die?"

I was snapped out of my palpitate mind by the sound of a familiar melodious voice ringing out from behind me in a hurried tone. I knew right away who the voice belonged to and I peeked around the corner as stealthy as I could manage, catching sight of Edward, Dr. Cullen and the model blonde—Rosalie—huddling close in the middle of the hall by the large windows.

"This isn't just about you." Rosalie snapped rather angrily at her brother, her hands in fists at her slim sides. It was clear that she was furious about what had happened, but I didn't understand why.

What did she mean by it isn't just about him? Did the whole family know something about what happened? Did they all have a clue on how he stopped that van right before my eyes?

I now had even more questions than before and it was making me head ache more and more. I honestly need a good night's rest. I'm pretty sure dad won't allow me to go to school tomorrow, so I could probably look forward to sleeping in.

"I think we should take this to my office." Carlisle spoke up in a hushed tone, nodding his head over to where I stood behind the corner, where I decided to now come out from since my cover had been blown. Dr. Cullen and Edward just looked at me, while Rosalie glared tempestuously at me, hate burning in her eyes, causing me to reflexively narrow my eyes back at her, feeling uncomfortable.

"Edward, can I talk to you for a minute, alone?" I asked nimbly, shoving my hands in the front pockets of my loose jeans, strangely feeling out of place. Things went silent for a moment, before I watched Carlisle tug on Rosalie's arm and usher her away, leaving behind Edward who breezily strode over to me, getting up in my space, causing me to lean my back against the wall. His expression was one of disdain, entanglement and care, which I found to be rather shocking. His presence is a strong one and when he is around me he makes me feel safe. I don't understand that, but I could not deny the abnormal and bizarre tingle in my chest as I gazed up at him.

"What?"

His simple response made me cloud up and I gingerly tried to press my back more up against the wall, but it was impossible since there was no available space. His unfriendliness irritated me, so my words came out with less severity then I had intended. "You—you need to give me an explanation."

"I saved your life. I don't need to give you anything."

I flinched some from the resentment in his voice and held my breath some as he got closer to me; maybe just a little too much into my personal space.

"H-How did you get over to me so fast?" I asked him after I managed to gather some of my breath back into my frigid lungs. With him being so close, it made it almost impossible for me to accumulate oxygen fluidly like my body needed.

"Beck, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." His tone was cutting. "I was standing beside you the whole time."

My temper flared now, and I congregated myself and glared defiantly at him, curling my hands into fists, causing my knuckles to turn white from the pressure. "No, you weren't and there is nothing wrong with my head."

How dare he try and lie to me. He had been at standing at his car at the other side of the lot. I know—and he knows—exactly what happened and where he had been, but here he was, denying it all with a quick whip of his sharp words. He shot daggers down at me and implanted his ample right hand beside my head on the wall. He then declined down a bit, meeting my eyes, causing me to fumble with my breathing even more, unable to get out everything that I wanted to say.

"I know what I saw, Edward," I finally managed to utter and I watched as his stern look intensified, his stare boring into me with barbarous energy.

"And what exactly was that?" He snapped.

At this point everything just came pouring out of me, my worlds were jumbled and quick. I was unable to take it anymore.

"Y-you were not anywhere near me—I don't think even Tyler saw you! So, don't tell me that I hit my head too hard. The van was going to crush me, but it didn't." I paused for a fleeting moment in my frenzy, lowering my voice a tad so I wasn't raising my voice. The last thing I wanted to do was to start a commotion in the middle of the hospital. "You stopped the van with your hand, pushed it away and left a dent in it..." I could hear how crazy it sounded, and I couldn't continue. I was so mad I could feel myself tearing apart by this whole situation. I grinded my teeth together and gazed up at him with a look that dared him to lie to me again.

He peered down at me incredulously, but his face was tense, almost defensive in a way.

"Well, no one is going to believe you, so…"

"I wasn't going to tell anybody." I spat out crisply before he was able to finish his sentence.

Clear surprise fluttered across his handsome face as he removed his hand from beside my head, now shoving the appendage into his coat pocket and taking a minuscule step backwards; though, he still practically had me ground up against the wall.

"I just want to hear the truth," I continued slowly, trying to calm down my bubbling aggravation. "From your mouth."

If I was going to lie for him, then it had better be for a good reason, because I don't like lying.

"Can't you just thank me and get over it?"

"Thank you," I responded after a moment. I then waited, fuming and expectant, my eyes locked with his.

"You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"No."

"Then I hope you enjoy disappointment."

And then he turned his back on me and walked away, leaving me to stare heatedly at his retreating form.

 **X X X**

I had been relieved—the first time I had ever felt that way—to get into the cruiser. We drove home in silence, which I was grateful for. I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I barely knew Charlie was there to begin with, so engaging in any sense of conversation would have been difficult. I was positive that Edward's defensive behavior in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still could hardly believe I'd witnessed.

When we got to the house, Charlie finally spoke.

"Um, you'll need to call Renée," he said and hung his head, guilty.

I was completely appalled. "You told mom?"

"Sorry."

I sighed and slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than I meant to on my way out.

My mom was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I felt fine at least a hundred times before she would calm down. She begged me to come home—forgetting the fact that home was empty at the moment—but her pleas were easier to resist than I would have thought. I was unfortunately consumed by the mystery that Edward presented and more than a little obsessed by Edward himself.

I am so _stupid_.

So utterly, fucking stupid, beyond any words possibly imaginable.

I wasn't as eager to escape Forks as I should be, as any normal, sane person would be.

I decided I might as well go to bed early that night. Charlie continued to watch me anxiously, and it was getting on my nerves a bit. I stopped on my way to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. I made my way back to my room and rummaged around in my bag for my yellow MP3 player, and untangled the earphone cords as I lay on my back, sprawled out my bed. Once I got the chaotic mess under control, I eased the buds into my ears and turned on my playlist, setting it to shuffle. Soon the familiar and light tone of "Candles," by _Daughter_ , filled my eardrums and I smiled nimbly, my eyes fluttering closed in amity. The meds slowly began to kick in, and as the pain eased, I drifted off to sleep.

That was the first night I dreamed of Edward Cullen.

In my dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be radiating from Edward's skin. I couldn't see his face, just his back as he walked away from me, leaving me behind in the blackness to wallow. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch up to him; no matter how hard I screamed for him, he never turned.

Troubled, I would wake up in the middle of the night and I always swore I saw him—he would be standing at the end of my bed, or in the corner of my room. Just standing there, watching over me as if I was the most important thing. Though, every time I turned to switch on the light, I would turn back and he would be gone. After those invasions on my afflicted mind and eyes, I wouldn't be able to sleep again for what seemed like a very long time.

He was in my dreams every night, but always on the periphery, never within my reach.

It didn't matter how much I wanted to reach him—to touch him.

I could do nothing but lament in the crepuscule.

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Hope you enjoyed that chapter (pray I didn't make any mistakes or at least not too many). Please leave a kind review, I am pretty sensitive~ haha :)

Btw, the song, as quoted was: "Candles" by Daughter. Which is one of my favorite artists as well, quite strangely. Im usually more into rock, punk and scream half of the time, but this music calms me and seemingly also Beck!

End of link on YouTube for the song - watch?v=YqYUW-qyb_Y

 **Important Notice** : if enough people want it, I might put up a _playlist on here for Beckham_ —like songs on his MP3 player that he listens to frequently. It will be a list of maybe 20 songs or more, but it depends if people want it. Please leave me a comment in a review if you wish to see that at the end of a chapter or in a future update!

 _Love you dearly,_

 ** _BLBabe_**


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